Absolution
by allthatsleftbehind
Summary: One shot based on that gif floating around Tumblr of Emma's hand hovering behind Regina's back. I put a twist on it & it turned into something different. Winter, Christmas, car confessions. Unapologetically Swan Queen. I'm on Tumblr at swanqueensecret. if that's your thing.


Regina hangs on the outskirts of the crowd, shivering from the December cold and feeling, well, she isn't sure what, exactly. Unrecognizable jingles crackle from the speakers of an unseen radio; steam rises from styrofoam cups full of some spicy concoction brought out to warm the bellies of the townspeople. They lift the drink to their lips between conversation and blow softly on the boiling liquid with a smile, happy to be right where they are, as if they'd never been anywhere else.

Regina sighs deeply and remains apart. The gods of her world do not practice contrition, and yet she feels simultaneously penitent and unworthy of the second chance she's been given - an overriding emotion that has followed her for too long, now. She doesn't belong here, not in the midst of such happiness that she's done nothing to earn and everything to destroy - at least before she'd started to change, to become a better version of the self she lost so many years ago.

The twinkling lights, the prickly sweet scent of pine, the sounds of heady laughter as Storybrooke celebrates this adopted holiday - as they include her in this celebration - makes her furious in ways she doesn't fully understand. How can they be so willing to grant her forgiveness when she can't even forgive herself? She has never trusted grace or valued mercy; they'd only ever seemed a slight of hand. But there is no trick here, no matter how long she waits for her expectations to be fulfilled. Instead, Granny walks over and hands her a cup of the warm cider and pats her gently on the shoulder before going back to serve the growing line.

A few yards away, she watches Emma and Henry dancing a made-up dance, arms outstretched and hands held, twirling and moving with the beat of the song - something about walking in a winter wonderland. The lyrics earn a scoff from Regina, but she's too transfixed on watching her son and his other mother and the bond they share, the way they break apart and laugh and Emma rubs Henry's head affectionately, before throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. Mary Margaret and David stand watching, Hook beside them, their face filled with mirth. At once, as if picking up on some greater frequency, Emma looks up and straight into Regina's eyes, smiling. She motions Regina over and Henry joins in the request, but Regina only shakes her head and gives a tight smile back before looking down at the black leather of her boots. In her peripheral vision, Regina sees Henry whispering into Emma's ear.

Turning, Regina steps forward as if to leave and then stops, hesitant, rocking backwards on her heels as though being pulled by some magnetic force. Emma's hand is there immediately, ghosting at the center of her back, steadying her with an unseen energy that radiates through Regina's chest and moves its way up her throat. She has to breathe deep to ground herself from the unexpected surge of magic Emma unwittingly imparts on her, and she doesn't look back so as not to give anything away.

"Hey, heading out?" Emma asks, walking around to face Regina with her eyebrows raised in confusion. "I thought it was pretty fun."

Regina nods, trying to keep her expression impassive. "Christmas is a bit… foreign to me, as I'm sure you can imagine. It's all very…" Regina scans her eyes back at the crowd, the atmosphere bright and cheery. She settles on "festive" as the descriptor, and Emma laughs softly, smiling.

"All right, then. Her majesty isn't a fan of Christmas. Duly noted." There's no hint of mocking, only hope and gentle coaxing of a smile that plays at Regina's lips despite herself. "Come on," Emma says, "I'll drive you home."

Regina is happy to walk, she says. It's perfectly fine. Emma should stay behind, should enjoy the party, but Emma is having none of it and after a final raised eyebrow and a tap on the arm, Regina knows she'll get nowhere protesting and they walk silently to Emma's car and climb in, the engine sputtering to life in the winter night.

Is isn't a long ride to 108 Mifflin, and the silence is comfortable, anyway. Emma pulls into the driveway, the gravel cracking loudly beneath the Bug's tires. When she reaches the top of the drive, she puts the car into park and leans back in the seat, looking over at Regina expectantly.

"You wanna tell me what's up, or am I going to have to guess? Because I'm actually not a very good guesser and it could take a while," Emma says seriously, but her tone light.

Regina doesn't want to talk about it. She doesn't need Emma to know about her pity party or to feel bad for her, and she knows the blonde will. Her sympathies are too easily engaged, she's discovered, though she doesn't seem to notice that this only applies to Regina herself. "I just don't get the point of this whole Christmas thing. Trees? Weird songs about Wonderland - which, I might add, you don't want to be walking in during winter and if you were, you certainly wouldn't be singing a song about it. It's just… not my thing," Regina finishes, with what she hopes is a convincing cynicism.

"I _am_ really good at knowing when someone's lying, remember," is Emma's reply. She sees straight through Regina but tries not to crack a smile, just barely succeeding.

Regina says nothing, so Emma changes tactics. She knows Regina at her core in ways that are inexplicable, given their history, or rather their lack thereof. The connection between them is intimate and important in impossible ways that scare them both, if they were ever to be honest of even acknowledge it, but of course they don't. Emma knows Regina's desire for happiness is absolute, but that it battles constantly with the guilt she feels for the years in which she allowed it to no one, not herself or anyone else. She is no longer that woman; she is so far beyond anyone, anything, but Emma knows she doesn't see it.

"Christmas is really for kids, you know. When I was a kid, even when I was in the system, it was the one time of year I just felt… I don't know, I felt good. Like the whole world was happy and I could be, too. I'd skip school and go down to the local mall and Santa Claus would be there with a line of kids wrapping halfway around the place, waiting to sit on his lap and tell him their greatest desires."

Regina raises an eyebrow at this, and Emma laughs, swatting her hand in the air in dismissal.

"Even when I was 14, 15, I still went every year to watch the joy on those kids' faces as their moms and dads snapped pictures. I mean, I wasn't even part of it, but it made me happy. It made me wish that someday I'd…" Emma trails off, catching her throat.

"One day you'd what?" Regina asks, willing her to continue.

Emma looks at her, cocking her head before proceeding, this time more quietly. "I don't know, I guess I just wished that someday I'd have a family to share things like that with. To share anything with, really." She shrugs, trying to downplay any feeling left behind.

"You do have that now," Regina says without hesitance, looking straight ahead."You've got Henry, and he loves you more than anything." She is telling a great truth and it heartens her to think of Henry now, his capacity for goodness and caring. Her grin widens at the thought.

Emma smiles at this, and Regina can't help but watch her, admiring her beauty, wanting to say so much more. It isn't just Henry that loves Emma, not by far, but she doesn't know how to say this and knows she probably shouldn't, anyway, so she settles on, "You have a family," and reaches her hand to cover Emma's and squeeze gently. Emma doesn't pull away, but Regina can feel her pulse hitch momentarily and she turns to meet Regina's gaze. The look in her eyes is curious and alive, a flame flickering wildly in the wind, and in a moment of bravery, she turns her hand in Regina's so that their palms are touching, interlacing their fingers. The heat glows white between their hands, and neither woman says anything for a long while.

Regina's heartbeat quickens, her mind blank. She has never understood what exists between herself and Emma and this new contact makes her feel heady and hopeful and more than a little bit scared. Emma moves her thumb along the space between Regina's thumb and pointer finger and breathes deep. "Hey," she says, her head lolled back against the headrest.

"Hey," Regina replies, licking her lips nervously, unsure what comes next. She's never been looked at so intently, never been so truly seen by anyone ever in her life, and she feels naked and completely exposed. Stranger still, she doesn't mind. In Emma's eyes there is nothing but kindness, understanding, and - though she thinks she could be fooling herself - maybe some kind of love, however little.

Emma lifts her free hand and rubs her thumb across Regina's bottom lip, cupping her cheek in her palm and staring intently, trying to convey everything neither of them have words for. It's a moment unlike either of them have ever experienced, one that transcends time or space or even magic, though magic is there, certainly, pulsing between them with a steady thrum that echoes in the confined space of Emma's car.

Regina reaches to circle Emma's wrist, removing her hand and bringing it to her mouth, pressing a kiss against Emma's palm. The move elicits a small gasp and then they're moving closer, crashing, hands in hair, and Emma's breath is hot and ragged along the soft skin of Regina's neck and Regina can only faintly her herself whispering against Emma's ear, "You're my family, too."


End file.
